Morning (II)

Frozen dews lie still,
The whisper of silence’s breath,
The neck’s heavy weight at will,
Ere it rises from the rest.

Rust, ‘mongst my fingers, clings,
Habits that bind me tight,
The antisocial grin that springs
From knowing the future’s blight.

Blackness flows within my core,
Fire and smoke entwined,
Water, soap, a cleansing lore,
Hatred in silence confined.

I loathe the silent chore,
I detest the hush it brings,
O, hatred, be no more
For silence in hatred sings.